A Worthwhile Fight
by mistrali
Summary: Kally/Kaddar drabbles for SMACKDOWN '13 at Goldenlake. Title from Taylor Swift's "State of Grace".
1. Opals

She couldn't help but think how his eyes reminded her a little of opals themselves, sentimental as that sounded. Unlike Jasson and Vania, Kally wasn't normally given to poetry, but after that first mortifying conversation she'd begun to associate the jewels with him, and his eyes in particular. They seemed bland and dark at first sight, but became enchanting when they lit up with some theory he'd been mulling over, or when he spoke about his garden and the useful, beautiful plants he tended there.

Maybe she would tell him that someday, if they ever became comfortable enough around each other to laugh over such notions.

**Chapter Text**


	2. A Wish Your Heart Makes

You're Empress Kalasin of Carthak, now, she reminded herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. An empress shouldn't mourn for a home that never belonged to her.

Instead she drew up the sky-blue brocade curtains of the carriage and stared out of the sheer gauze at her new realm. Was this dry, windblown land to be hers, then, this place that seemed nothing but light brown dust and heat?

Even under shelter, with slaves fanning her and handing her cups of chilled pomegranate juice, she could feel it; there were no trees to soften or cool the landscape. She handed back her cup and took another, smiling a little uncertainly at the slave who appeared at her elbow. He bowed and clasped his hands together in reply, and Kally noted with approval that he did not seem afraid. Kaddar treats his slaves well, she thought, hopeful at this first clue to his nature. That means he might be a good man. He'd seemed pleasant enough at the betrothal ceremony and the meetings beforehand, but any prince or princess learnt to hide behind a mask of diplomacy by the age of seven. He'd bowed and smiled, the picture of courtesy, but there hadn't been much in the way of personality. Then again, it had been a formal occasion; maybe her impression of him would change when she saw him in a more relaxed environment.

She lost herself in speculation - would he have a sense of humour? Was he fond of hunting or scholarship or dancing, fresh fruits or dried, walks in the evening or at dawn? And might he love her? For although it was a question she knew better than to voice, Kally had seen the shine in her noble friends' eyes when a new man or woman flirted with them or gave them presents. Neither she nor her siblings had any illusions about their marriages, though Kally was thankful she had been able to negotiate for Carthak rather than being handed off to, gods forbid, the Copper Isles or Scanra, whose rulers were notoriously cruel.

All the same, it would be nice to have a husband she could talk to, at least.

I hope he's not a bardash who beds me for show and goes courting the noblemen, she thought with a sigh. On the other hand, better a husband who respects me than one who just wants a prince-maker for a wife, I suppose.

Then she started at the commotion, for they were rolling into a city as fine and crowded and filthy, in its way, as Corus.


	3. Victory

"Elephant captures camel! I win again," said Kaddar, entirely too gleefully. Kally knew she'd have behaved the same way, but that didn't stop her from grumbling about Carthakis and their idiotic menagerie names for chess pieces.

"Well, yours have such sensible names, like 'castle' and 'priest' and 'knight'," he teased, at which she threw a cushion in his direction.

"I don't stand for insults to my homeland, Your Majesty," she said, eyes dancing.

"You just hate to lose," he countered, smirking, and plucked the ebony queen from the board with a flourish.

"We'll see who's laughing next game," she said, raising her eyebrows at him.


	4. Figures

"You know, of course, that opals are our chief export in precious stones?" enquired Kaddar, holding her eyes with his as they ascended the staircase to the imperial treasury.

"Of course; Sirajit opals helped you secure the pearl trade with Maren six years ago," she said, wondering why he should test her on what was surely common knowledge to any future monarch worth his or her salt.

"Yes - they pulled Carthak some four thousand Tortallan gold crowns out of debt in 432."

"Of course, prices have climbed since then," said Kally thoughtfully, "so with inflation, they'd be worth... oh, five thousand one hundred? And I think that the price of Marenite gold has risen slightly and Carthak's coin has dropped. So... that might be four thousand eight hundred, in today's terms, allowing for mistakes. Does that sound right?" she asked, having forgotten entirely, in the familiar drill of calculating figures and exchange rates, that she was not at the palace studying mathematics and economics with her favourite tutor, Sir Myles of Olau.

He raised his eyebrows, and Kally flushed: how stupid he must think her, to figure - to ramble! - in front of him as a child might. Especially in Carthak, where she was going to be ruler, nothing less!

"I apologise," she said as calmly as she could manage, meeting his eyes despite her embarrassment. "I didn't... I'm afraid I forgot myself, Your Majesty."

He smiled - indulgently, she thought - which only worsened her mortification.

"So you like mathematics?" he asked kindly, and she nodded.

"Good!" he said, grinning in triumph. "You can take over most of the accounts; I loathe them. I'll do the taxes: gods know anything's preferable to balancing those cursed profit and loss sheets."


	5. Not of One Feather

The colours were fresh on the scroll, belying a date of some thousand years previous. Kally had to admire the oils and spellwork that had made the image last so long. She didn't know much about painting, but from what Kaddar had told her, mages had to be careful that the magic used to preserve a painting would not harm it. The bird was perched with its wings half-spread, settling into a resting position.

"It's a crimson-winged finch, I believe," said Kaddar, who was curled in his chair like a cat. She looked at him, surprised and reminded more than a little of Lianne, who knew tidbits about everything from all the reading she did.

"My uncle loved birds, especially his finches," explained Kaddar. "He used to make me memorise everything about the creatures - names, plumage, mating and feeding habits. He treated them like his children."

"I didn't know you were close to your uncle," she said. She'd heard stories of Ozorne from Alanna and her father, and read about the Immortals War in history books, and Kaddar didn't strike her as the grasping type. By all accounts Ozorne had been clever but cruel.

"We weren't close, though I had a healthy respect for him," he said abruptly. "It didn't take a fool to see he was capable of being ruthless: he had two of my cousins killed for treason, which is not pleasant when you're in the line of succession. So I trod carefully around him. The one time we seriously disagreed about policy was... memorable," he said, laughing, but there was a twist to his mouth that made her wonder just how much he had disliked Ozorne, or feared him.


	6. Respite

Even Kaddar, long used to Ozorne's extravagance, had to admit Kally's private chambers looked tasteful. The room still bore traces of its former Carthaki resplendence, but the plain teak furnishings were Tortallan to the core. The starkness was balanced by richly coloured tapestries, ornate lamps and curtains of sheer gold. Kalasin sat on a chair, her belly now too round for her to move without effort, and leafed through a pile of documents about the Scanran treasury.

"How is it - the child, I mean?" asked Kaddar. "Have you been eating well, resting?"

"I wish you wouldn't keep asking me that," she said wearily. "It's the same as it was four days ago."

"Forgive me for being concerned about my heir," he snapped.

"Do you know what it is to be stuck in these few rooms for months on end?" she demanded. "I can't ride or travel or meet people, I spend the mornings throwing up what little I managed to eat the night before, and my gowns are being let out by the week. And then you - you spend four days in Ekallatum and the first thing you ask me is how my child is."

Kaddar took several deep breaths until he felt able to speak without throwing something. "Look. I've been negotiating with Sirajit idiots all morning. If you're going to be -"

"Kaddar... I'm still your wife. I miss our morning rides and our trips to the hanging gardens. And talking to you about normal things. Don't you?" She placed a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, realising how much he longed for her company, and contrite at having forgotten how confinement would bore her to tears.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been paying much attention lately. In between the rebellions on the western coast, the difficulties with the Scanran trade, the Sirajit governor braying for more land and you with child, I think we both forgot to breathe. Shall we...?" He stopped, feeling inordinately foolish at having to ask his own wife on what amounted to a lovers' outing, but pressed on.

"Shall we arrange a carriage tomorrow morning, then, and pay a visit to the city? Just the two of us and a slave," he added, guessing her objection. "No politics, no retinue. Gods know we both need it."


	7. Tease

**Tease**

"My friends and I at university used to play a version of it which invo-... ah, now I think of it, talk of dice isn't suitable for... for someone of our rank," he added hastily, suddenly realising who he was speaking to and, more importantly, how very much she might blackmail him if she wished.

Kalasin scowled and adjusted her glass of juice. "This game didn't happen to involve any women, did it? Or copious amounts of drink?"

"Yes, it did, actually," he said wryly. "I hadn't expected you to-"

"I guessed from your tone. Kaddar, for Mithros's sake. I wasn't born yesterday, and I have three brothers who've finished knight training. Liam and Jasson each danced round it for a month before they realised I'd already badgered stories about kissing games and drinking games out of Roald years ago. Explain the game, then? This isn't the one where a boy and a girl are locked in a cupboard for six minutes, is it?" she asked with interest.

Kaddar nearly choked on his wine, and she chuckled to see his normally composed expression disappear. "Kally! It's not proper to talk about... about such things when we're married, and rulers of the country besides."

"Yes, " she said in a low voice, smiling shyly at him and lowering her eyes, "but I'd rather like to play a more intimate version of it, if that's possible."

"Um. Well, that sounds... that can be arranged," he croaked. "Here's how it works, then."


	8. Look at the Stars

**Look at the Stars**

"Look," said Kaddar quietly. She felt him shift from where he'd curled against her on the velvet couch; the movement left a patch of coolness that made Kalasin shiver, and the blast of freezing air from the open doors didn't help.

"Mmph," she mumbled, opening bleary eyes to find a servant tending to the hearth.

"Sleepyhead. You dozed off in the library. There's the Cat Star, look."

"You had to wake me up to look at constellations?"

"Not just constellations," he said, though he sounded contrite. "I know you're tired from the trip to Maren still, but it's eight of the clock, sweet. We have a royal stargazing banquet with the astronomer until the showing is over, remember?"

Mithros and Goddess give me patience, she thought, but he was so earnest about astronomy that she couldn't bring herself to be grouchy. "Can't we skip it, Kaddar?" she asked, burrowing against him as he dismissed the servant, who left with a bow. They were Emperor and Empress, after all. They might do as they wished, and Takerh or whatever the curst astronomer was called could wait, surely, just this once?

His hand paused in its stroking of her hair. "It's unlucky to miss a viewing at... this time of the month," he said delicately.

Oh. Horse Lords witness it, she'd forgotten that. Carthakis and their obsession with chronicling the skies, she thought grumpily. She'd been hoping to spend some time resting - with Kaddar, preferably - but evidently that was not to be. Thank the gods she'd put an end to the stargazings that coincided with certain phases of pregnancy: she didn't think she'd be able to bear that if they had another child, not when she'd been tired and frustrated enough being poked and prodded and examined by healers during Binur's time; astronomers would have driven her to despair. But though it might be eight of the clock, the viewing didn't start till midnight.

"Can we stay half an hour?" she asked, kissing him to prevent any objections. "I was thinking we could..." She trailed off as his lips met her ear. "I don't know if we can spare time for that," he murmured against her neck, "and bribery won't get you-"  
"Anywhere?" she finished triumphantly, after she'd kissed him quite thoroughly enough that they were both sprawled back on the couch, giggling like children.

"That's where you're wrong, Kaddar," she said, wrapping her hands around his and settling in for a nap with a contented sigh.


	9. Service

Inspired by a scene in TQ, and by a bit in Marie Ellen's fic 'Kalasin's Story' on FFN, where Kally heals poor people.

* * *

**Service**

Zaimid and Saraiyu have invited him and Kalasin to observe and share in their work for the poor; it will give Kally a sense of life and healing work outside the palace. Saraiyu and Kally are talking animatedly about the latest fashions as they traipse through the muck in wooden sandals. Kally's eyes gleam underneath her veils for the first time since her marriage two weeks ago, and Kaddar realises just how much she's been longing for a friend's company, and to do some good out here in the slums and poorer districts.

He shouldn't be shocked and abashed at the suffering of people in his own realm - he's known for a long time that drought and class divisions have drained Carthak - but seeing it is a different experience. Here are people who scramble for the next mouthful of food, who cannot afford a decent bed, much less a healer. They are as good as beggars, of which the capital also has its share. He watches Kally use her Gift to heal a boy with an infected sore on his leg. She shoves the used bandages, caked with old blood and yellowish pus, into her spelled bag, while Zaimid murmurs reassurance and gives the child herbs to make him drowsy. Then she calmly asks the family about the source of their drinking water and privy and gestures for Zaimid to follow her out of the ragged tent.

Kaddar bites his lip and glances toward the guards, who are stationed directly outside, taking up the narrow gully even two abreast.  
"Your Imperial Majesty can stay, if you wish to," says a quiet voice. Sarai is looking at him, not doing a good job of hiding the amusement in her face.  
"No, I'm coming," says Kaddar, though his gorge is rising at the thought of it. He's read far worse things in the history books... but then, reading isn't experience. What good is a ruler who refuses to acknowledge what is right before him?

He winces as the ground becomes even squelchier, grateful now for Kalasin's insistence on plain clothes, and follows his wife to the dungheap that serves as a common privy.


End file.
